No, she didn't die. This was a couple of years ago, so perhaps she has now died, I don't know. I never heard what was wrong with her or why that happened. I recall her coming back to the senior home within a few days of this happening.

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thebeckster

When I was very young, we got milk in bottles that had a cardboard stopper. One day, my dad took the milk bottle out of the refrigerator and saw the was some Kool Aid on the stopper. AFTER he licked it, he realized it was, in fact, chicken blood that had dripped down.

The only thing I can think of right now is the day my brother poured the LAST of a carton of orange juice, and a huge ball of mould plopped out into his glass. I always look in the carton now before I pour.

Dh is changing dd's diaper.Like the good dad he is, he puts one hand on the baby as he bends down to place the dirty diaper in the pail.Just as hubby's head is level with the table, dd sneezes.The force shot poop out of baby and all over dh's face...

I finished the change while he showered baby poop out of his beard.

And then there was:

A mom I know checked on what her toddler had in her mouth.A mouse's head.....

And a dad I know found his toddler sucking on a dead mouse - with a torn up and empty abdomen.

When I was younger, about 10 or so, I had been drinking a Coke (out of a can) and set it on the kitchen counter to go wander off and do something else. I come back a little later, take a few quick gulps, before I realize a funny texture in my mouth, so I spit it in the sink. Amid the Coke-spit, I see short black stringy things. My dad chews tobacco, and instead of emptying his "wad" in the sink or trash can, he just pulled it out and put it in the nearest container, which just so happened to be MY can of Coke. IT WAS STILL COLD!

This is also the man who won't throw his Nicorette away...he just sticks it random places. Like the remote control...My mom gave up fighting that battle long ago...

Something like this happened to a coworker of mine, only it really was worse. We worked for an Armored Car Company, he was on a trip that required one of our bigger trucks. These over the road trucks were ten wheeled trucks that had a two man cab and a sleeper compartment. This particular coworker had finished his shift riding up in the cab and had switched out with the guy that had been in the sleeper.

The guy that was in the sleeper dipped snuff, he used a coke bottle to spit his tobacco juice in. On top of that, he had a cold so he was also spitting phlegm into the coke bottle. I'm sure you can see where this is going. When the second coworker woke up (the truck was pulling into a restaurant parking lot so they could get dinner) he saw the coke bottle. He had been drinking a coke and thought the bottle was his. He didn't just sip it, he tilted back for a huge swig. The two guys that were up front (the one who dipped snuff, and the driver) saw the door to the sleeper burst open, the guy who had been in the sleeper came flying our gagging and heaving. I still cringe whenever I think about it and I wasn't even there.

I somehow managed to read all this in one sitting. at the whole thread, particularly the human volcano... even more amazing that she lived!

I have a bunch of these stories...

1) According to my mom, when I was younger - before school age, about 4 or 5 - our cat had a phase where she would bring in all sorts of dead things, like mice and birds. The conversation was always the same:

Mom: EW! EW! EW! DEAD ANIMAL! DEAD ANIMAL!Irk: Wow, cool! Can I have it?Mom: No! Get a plastic bag, throw it away...Irk: OK. *disposes of it without any reaction*

I still don't mind dead animals much... not that I'd want to keep them as pets anymore, but my reaction to "throw that away" would remain the same. Of course, that's pretty much the one standard gross thing that doesn't get me...

2) When I was in 5th grade, during break, the teacher would leave the room and trusted the students to not cause chaos. We were allowed to leave our chairs, stand around the room, etc.

Also, our desks didn't have chairs attached - instead, each day, everyone took a chair from the pile, carried it to their desk, and put it back at dismissal.

Yes, all of this is important.

5th grade was also the year I started my period. A few months after I had started it, it was break, and I was talking to a couple of friends. They had left their desks to come over to mine, but I was still in my own seat. Eventually, in the middle of the conversation, I notice a wet feeling... since I had just started it not too long before, I wasn't too sure about my cycle yet and wasn't wearing a pad. I excused myself to go to my bag to get a pad, a baggie, and some clean underwear - thank goodness my uniform had deep pockets and no one else was in the bag room! - went to the bathroom, and got myself cleaned up. Thankful there was no blood on my skirt, I went back to the classroom. I noticed there was a crowd of boys around my chair, jeering, while my two friends seemed to be yelling at them to go away. Wondering what was going on, I went back into the bag room, put my underwear in my bag, and went over to my desk to figure it out.

"Hey, look, it's Poopie Splee!""Irk pooped herself!"

This was before we had the talk, so these boys had no idea about periods, but they probably would have reached the conclusion they did anyway - they thought I pooped myself! My friends and I REALLY didn't want to say "no, she's on her period," since that wasn't much better, but... I spent the rest of that year as the girl who pooped on her chair. Every morning when it came to getting chairs, kids would fight to not get the one I had - it never cleaned up all the way, so you could still kind of tell. I know this seems like complaining about mean kids in school, but as embarrassing as it was then, now I actually think it's kinda funny.

3) My cousin and I were staying over at a friend's house. Cousin fell asleep on the top bed of Friend's bunk, while Friend and I had passed out in the living room watching TV. The next morning when we woke up, Friend's Dad was carrying up a basket of clean laundry - that had some of Friend's stuffed animals in it. Friend asked why her dad was washing them, and the story came out. Apparently, the night before, Cousin had called Friend's Dad into the room.

FD: Cousin? What's wrong?C: I feel sort of sick-

YAK! Cousin projectile vomited, and the puke sailed over Friend's Dad's head and hit the opposite wall. Some of it had also dripped down onto her stuffed animals, hence the washing. That's got to be fun, scrubbing your daughter's wall of her friend's vomit at dark o'clock in the morning...

4) As an aside, I only feel qualified to tell this one because mom did laugh at it later. Mom and I sleep walk/sleep talk a LOT, but before this incident, neither of us had done anything drastic - it was normally just falling asleep in bed and waking up on the downstairs couch, or waking someone up to tell them all about fairies for a few minutes and then head back to sleep. However, one night, we were staying in a hotel. Mom had gone to bed early because we had just driven 12 hours and I was sitting up reading a book. Eventually she got up, came over to me, shook my shoulder, and told me she had to go to the bathroom. OK, fine. She's sleepwalking, that's why she's telling me this, I just nodded. She headed down the hall... but then I heard a sliding door, which the hotel bathroom didn't have.

Irk: MOM! THAT'S THE CLOSET!

I rushed over, flung the closet door open, and mom was sitting in the hamper peeing. It took a few shakes and some yelling of "MOM! THAT'S NOT THE BATHROOM!", but eventually she woke up, realized what she was doing, turned crimson, and FLED from the hotel room. I let her handle the wash the next day...

5) Anyone ever been tasked with dumping 6-month-old milk? I have NO IDEA how it went unnoticed that long, but the second I took the cap off of that sucker... holy cow!

6) Along those lines, one day I was doing the dishes when I noticed a closed container filled with cottage cheese. Wait... didn't mom pack the rest of the cottage cheese to take to work for lunch a long time ago...? Apparently, she took it back home, put it in the fridge intending to eat it later, never did, and then put the bowl in the sink intending to dump and wash it later. I got to it first. Cottage cheese squicks me anyway - the texture of it just looks strangely unpleasant to me - but the smell and look of it after however long it had sat in that fridge... She did start laughing at me over it until I made her come into the kitchen. She agreed that it smelled of death.

Okay, I think I must be blessed (or cursed?) with a stomach of steel......none of this grosses me out! With this in mind.....

This took place 26 or 27 years ago, so I was a little thing in diapers. Mom and Dad decided to take me to a pet store to get some fish for the aquarium. Dad decided to wear a white T-shirt (you can probably tell where this is going to go) for this trip, also ended up with the job of carrying me. Well, we were in the pet store when I had a massive Code Brown. I mean a massive Code Brown.....it ended up seeping out of the diaper and landing on Dad's shirt.....we ended up getting kicked out of that store

Sorry to dredge up this thread again, but last night, I experienced the port-a-potty from Hades. The only good thing I can say about it was that there was no human waste on the seat, which saved it from being rendered completely unusable.

The only reason I used it was because I was absolutely desperate. DH and I stopped at a gas station, and the port-a-potty was the only restroom they had. Like a fool, I figured it couldn't be that bad-- after all, I'd spent a summer at camp using port-a-potties, and I managed all right, even during the week when some of the campers had... intestinal troubles.

Well, those had been cleaned and emptied 2-3 times a week. This one... I don't know... it had to have been months. The stench almost made me vomit, there was excrement piled almost up to the seat, and there were flies everywhere.

I have a rodent/cat horror story from back when I lived in Northern California in a suburban single family detached house. We had 3 female cats and a cat door so they could go in & out at will. Usually "gifts" of dead rodents were left outside on the stoop. One morning I awoke to a scene from a horror flick: Blood streaking the bottom 3 feet of my walls. Yep, the girls caught a baby squirrel and brought it inside to torture it. The squirrel was larger than the mice they usually caught & killed quickly. They were able to maim the squirrel, but not disable or kill it, so it ran around the house, climbing the walls trying to get out/away.

Okay, I'll tell this one on myself.

Couple years ago, Felipe was on a mid-week overnight bidness trip (to glamorous Corpus Christi, Texas - woo freakin' hoo), so I decided to take that day off and get some house stuff done.

Early in the afternoon, the Dread Boston Salty and our boy cat Dennis were racketing around in the fireplace in my study. I stuck my head in the room and told 'em to knock it off. Salty came over to me to offer me what I thought was a string bone, and thank God I didn't take it, 'cause it was a DEAD SQUIRREL.

He dropped it. I whisked him into the living room and barricaded him in there with a baby gate, then grabbed Dennis and put him in one bathroom, and corraled the girl cats and put them in the other one.

Then I called Felipe. He said, "I am not coming home until 24 hours from now, so you'll have to handle it or live with it until then."

So I did what any good Texas girl would do ... I called my daddy. He was taking Mom to chemo, and said he could be there around nine that night. I said thanks, but I'd have to deal with it before then, so don't worry about it.

I went back in the foyer with a dustpan and a whisk broom and tried to whisk it into the dustpan. When the broom touched it, it was so, ugh, DEAD that it freaked me out. I put a box over it.

So I called Bob, who's been my best friend for more than 30 years now (and is also our insurance agent), and told him I had a dead squirrel in the foyer that Salty and Dennis killed and Felipe wasn't coming home until tomorrow and Papa Ferdinand was taking Mama Isabella to the hospital and couldn't make it over for several hours and ZOH MY GOD dead squirrel!!!!

Bob laughed at me and said, "Oh, Jesus Christ, okay, I'm heading over there." He left work two hours early, drove 45 minutes to get to our place, picked up the squirrel, and buried it in our backyard.

Talk about a DUDE.

We have had other squirrel incursions, some of which resulted in visible rodent carnage, but this one reflects worst on me.